Date: Sat, 14 Aug 2004 05:55:30 -0700 (PDT)
From: Lance Kyle
Subject: Seaward Plantation war clouds 9
This story contains graphic but completely fictional
depictions of sex among men and men, and men and underage
boys and/or girls, and even nekkid women show up now and
then If this offends you, if it is illegal for you to read
or download this, or if you are under 18, please go away.
Seaward Plantation
War clouds chapter nine
When Mark Appleby awoke the next morning, next to a soundly
sleeping Aaron, he slipped quietly but quickly from the bed.
There had been little sleep the night before but
nevertheless he was fully energized by the new perils and
demands that Bundit's return had brought. Tugging on
trousers to go down to the bath room, Appleby stepped into
the second floor hallway. Behind the closed door of the
last bedroom, his Aunt Lucy's old room, Hammond and Samuel
evidently slept still, as did Bundit in his room. But the
other doors were open. It was clear that Pan and Bacchus,
Cassius and Hector, were likewise up and about.
Appleby bathed and dressed quickly. Water on the bricks of
the bath room told the tale of others there before him. He
found the twins eating a simple breakfast on the verandah.
"Did you have trouble hiding the boat on the eastern side?"
he asked.
"No, master, it is pulled well up onto the beach and covered
with branches," said Pan. "If it storms we should check it
again, but it is alright for the present," added Bacchus.
Appleby nodded.
"I think we need to plan. Someone may come from the
mainland looking for Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond. We are
violating the law," he said, "for which I don't care a fig
personally, but some may think they have grounds for coming
ashore to investigate a crime. We must not allow that," he
added, grimly. "Although if it comes to that, Robert Ashley
certainly violated the law in taking Bundit, but.... but
getting other authorities to see it that way may be
difficult," he added in a more subdued voice. "Pan,
Bacchus, would you be willing to spread the word that we
need to meet? I think perhaps Apple could be asked to lead
the three boys down to keep watch while we are talking;
please ask her to come down to the pier as soon as possible.
Rain is tired from watching with Cassius, I suspect, and
Moss of course is too young." The twins agreed and were
off, while Appleby strode down to the pier
Cassius and Rain still kept guard, the little girl no less
vigilant than her father as she perched on the cabin roof of
the Hesperus, carbine tight in her hands, scanning the sea.
Appleby thanked them and sent them on their way to rest. He
picked up the spyglass and surveyed the sea, but saw no
movement on it near them. A sail or two spiked in the
distance, and a few lines of smoke bespoke steamers entering
and leaving the harbor, but nothing came their direction.
Turning over thoughts in his head, he heard the sound of
small feet...marching, not running. Down the embankment
came Apple at the head of her troops: Frederick, Douglass,
and Wat. Each carried a carbine or shotgun over a shoulder.
They, too, had taken firearms practice during stormy nights
and knew how to use these weapons. A new light...more
mature, more serious, even deadly, had entered Apple's eyes.
She marched down the pier and stood next to Appleby, looking
out toward the sea. A wave of love, and fear for her future
(and that of the other children on Seaward) rushed over him,
and he hugged her tightly, then released her as befitted her
new martial duties.
"If you see anything coming toward us...even if you are not
sure but think it might be coming....ring the bell. Do not
use the guns unless you must, but if you must, shoot to
kill," said Appleby. All four of the children nodded
seriously. Could they fully understand what was at stake?
If matters continued on the current course they might have
need to grow up quickly. Appleby thanked them all and
returned speedily to the hay barn, where the adults were
gathering to share coffee and make plans. Bundit and the
visitors were still asleep, it was reported.
Appleby cleared his throat. "My friends, I need not explain
the seriousness of our situation to you. I feel that we
will survive, but we are in peril. Robert Ashley might not
necessarily suspect that his three slaves came here, but
since Bundit went with them, the conclusion may well be
inescapable. I suggest that we deny a landing to anyone we
can." The adults nodded in agreement, that being an easy
conclusion to reach. "There may be some who try to land who
cannot reasonably be denied entry onto the island....someone
in a position of civil or military authority. It may be
best to try to pacify them than to fight, for to fight is to
make a breach once and for all with the mainland. I suggest
that if anyone lands, we find Bundit, Samuel, Aaron, and
Hammond immediately and hide them. The cellar, among the
wine, might be the best place; surely I can deny a search of
my own home to anyone."
Troy spoke up. "Master Mark, do you think we will have to
fight? Will it come to that?"
"We must be ready for it, Troy," said Appleby. "If it
appears that we must fight, then we must do so with all our
strength. There can be no compromise." A quiet settled on
the group as they considered the truth of that statement.
Then Priam spoke.
"I suppose everyone must decide for themselves," he said,
"but I will not be taken prisoner... not be taken as a
slave. I will die fighting, and if I cannot do that then I
will kill myself at the end." Shocked looks went around the
group, but first one and then another of the group nodded
agreement. Into the silence that followed, Troy dropped
this heavy stone:
"We must decide what to do about the children. I.... I
cannot see them taken away or sold off into slavery, I will
not see that. I agree with Papa and would rather die
fighting for my own lot. For the children... I think we
must be strong so that, if it comes to that they are not
faced with that end, of slavery. You all know what I mean.
I hope... I hope we would have the strength to do what would
have to be done." Cass and Juno began weeping softly at the
thought, but the other women, mothers all, looked first
thoughtful and then determined. They would live free or
die, every one.
"Now, then, let us plan!" said Appleby, energizing the group
and raising their glum spirits. For the rest of the day,
contingency plans were to be rehearsed for any manner of
attack from any direction, although they trusted in the
natural and artificial barriers of submerged stones, reefs,
and buoys around the island to bar any approach from the
eastern side. A couple of hours into their planning, Bundit
and the newcomers arrived, refreshed from their sleep. They
were fully apprised of the plans and had their own ideas of
strategy to contribute. It was clear to Samuel, Aaron, and
Hammond that their own lives were now entwined with the fate
of Seaward, and looks of grim determination crept over their
faces.
A watch was set on the highest point of the island, the
cemetery, in addition to the pier. A rough wooden shelter
was built there and stocked with spyglasses, water, and
firearms. All the rest of the day was spent in planning and
preparation, with but hurried breaks for meals. A new watch
was sent down to relieve Apple and her warriors at the pier,
and these older children were told of the plans afoot. Each
child had an assigned part in the plans, every one was given
a station to man should there be an attack.
Chores, the tending of crops and livestock, was delayed that
day as much as possible until into the evening. The people
of Seaward came to understand the new arrivals as both a
strain on and a contribution to the island's resources.
Samuel, Aaron, and Hammond joined in all the work with a
passion and energy. They well understood that Seaward was
now the only home they could claim, and that dangers
surrounded them, so they worked to make their only chance
succeed. As they hoed the vegetable plots or tended the
livestock that evening, the people of Seaward revealed the
wonders and mysteries of the island to them. The three were
astonished. They had all experienced kindness at the hands
of Appleby, but they had no idea just how radical the
community was for its time. For their part, the people of
Seaward made it clear to them that they would be expected to
learn to read and write and to speak properly as befits free
people with minds of their own.
Troy, Priam, and Hector were to take the shifts on the watch
down at the pier for the night. Appleby took the first
watch at the cemetery and Aaron promptly volunteered to
relieve him in the night, declaring that he was plenty
rested and eager to be of service. The rest of the
community tumbled exhausted into their beds while those
keeping watch scanned the sea with eyes and spyglasses in
search of threats.
The sea was calm that night and the clouds that hid the
escapees the night before had parted. The moon was still
just a sliver, though, so the night was dark. Appleby sat
on a large stone by the cemetery, pinching himself to keep
from nodding off to sleep, not entirely with success.
Exhausted from the previous night and day's relentless round
of preparation, he stood to walk around, flapping his arms
to revive himself. Every now and then a distant ship would
pass, but none that seemed interested in the island.
Some time after midnight Appleby heard footsteps in the dark
and Aaron emerged into the enclosure of headstones, carrying
a lantern. His exotic good looks had matured but not
changed fundamentally over the years that Appleby had known
him: a dark, long, leopard-like face under straight black
hair, his features still bespoke some ancestry in addition
to Africa. "Masta Mark," he said, greeting Appleby. "I
come as soon as I could, you mus' be real tired." Appleby
nodded.
"I am; thank you for coming to take my place. Did you have
trouble finding it?"
"Naw, suh, jes' followed the path. Masta.... befo' you
go....I jes' wanna say thank you."
"Aaron, you knew we would take you in here, didn't you? You
are welcome, and I am grateful to you for bringing Bundit."
Aaron stepped closer to him. "Yes suh, but I mean, thanks
fo' everything. You's known me fo' a long time, and you was
always real kind, masta. Like....like I was as good as you.
An' now to have us sleep in the house, an'...an' me in the
bed...." he trailed off, a look of sincerity above a wide
grin.
Appleby put an arm around his shoulder. "Oh, Aaron....what
a world. Of course you are as good as me. I won't say you
are 'just like me,' nobody is, and I wouldn't want it that
way. Maybe some day nobody will think anybody else is not
as good as they are, and surely not for reasons of
appearance."
"You think so, really, masta? Some day?"
"Some day, Aaron," he said. "Likely not in our life times,
but some day."
"I talked to some of the people here...mebbe that day is
here on Seaward."
Appleby hugged him tighter. "I hope so, Aaron, I do.
That's why we have to defend what we have here, we just have
to." Aaron slipped his arm around Appleby as well and the
two stood like that for a moment, looking out onto the sea.
Aaron cocked his head at Appleby. "You wan' me to do
somethin' nice fo' you, masta?"
A small rush of desire warred with Appleby's extreme
exhaustion. Then he thought about what they had just
discussed, about the slavery from which Aaron had just come,
the endless bondage that he had faced and might--if all were
lost--face again. Appleby thought it must take a long time,
maybe even generations, to reverse the effects of slavery
and the ways of thinking slavery required, but that one must
make a start. Or, if he had made a start with Aaron in his
own way some years ago, he could continue the journey.
"Aaron," he began, "everybody here has determined to live
free or die. That can include you. You are now free. You
are not a slave while you are here on Seaward, you are a
man. So," he continued, turning to embrace the hard,
muscular body next to him, "some time, soon, yes you can
something 'nice' for me. But only if you want to. Right
now, let me do something nice for you." Cupping Aaron's
head in both hands, running his fingers into the helmet of
thick, straight, jet black hair, Appleby kissed him gently
on his full lips, then nuzzled his face, his nose, his
almond eyes. Aaron sighed loudly and hugged Appleby
tightly. A lifetime of being exploited was beginning to ebb
away, each act of kindness, each gentle caress, each small
freedom given and taken was another wave clearing away the
sand of slavery.
Appleby pushed back a little and pulled Aaron's shirt off of
him. The pads of muscle on the chest, the firm hills that
rolled up and down his abdomen, shone lightly in the
moonlight. Appleby slid down Aaron's body, biting his neck,
licking his chest and sucking gently at his nipples, down
the valley in the middle of the chest and into the belly.
On his knees before the black man, Appleby looked up,
winked, and said "You're on watch!" Aaron smiled hugely and
looked out at the sea but held the white man's head in his
dark brown fingers, entangled in the shoulder length brown
hair.
Appleby unfastened Aaron's trousers and pulled them down,
then his undergarment. A thick, dark brown penis sprang out
from beneath a bush of course black pubic hair, arched
slightly up and curving down at the end. Appleby pulled
the dark, wrinkled foreskin back completely, freeing the
lighter, reddish brown dickhead which was now moist with
precum. He slipped his pink lips over this knob, moving
them back and forth, rubbing the top of the head with his
lips as Aaron moaned and tightened his hips--but still kept
a lookout on the sea. Appleby reached his hands around to
dig fingers into the firm, prominent butt muscles.
The white man cupped the dark brown ballsack in his hands,
gently kneading the testicles inside that were now drawn up
underneath his penis. He moved his head forward, taking the
rigid shaft into his mouth as far as it would go, and began
moving back and forth. Aaron sighed, moaned, whispering
"masta, masta" as Appleby picked up the pace of the
stimulation. Behind his groin, in his thighs, deep in his
gut, there gathered a vibration, a coil of energy. Then a
tidal wave burst forth from deep inside him and he cried
out, shouting "O! masta, masta" over and over, squeezing his
hips tightly and letting the wave flow over him, out of him,
and into the white man kneeling before him.
Appleby knelt there until Aaron was completely spent,
licking and sucking the swollen penis until it was clean.
Then he pulled up the undergarment and trousers, carefully
fastening them as they had been. Rising to his feet, he
held Aaron by the black man's upper arms and looked into his
face. Tears ran down the dark cheeks from dark eyes that
looked deep into Appleby's own. They both just nodded at
each other, smiling, having exchanged a gift beyond words.
Appleby kissed him lightly on the lips and said, "This is
your home, Aaron. Keep watch over it." A look of serious
determination came over Aaron's face, and he said "I will"
with steel in his voice. Appleby squeezed his shoulders
once more and then slipped off down the path to take his
rest.
The next day Bacchus had the watch on the cemetery lookout
in the morning. Helen came to relieve him, and he asked her
to observe the movements of a small sailboat that stood well
out from the island but that appeared to be circling it. It
had appeared several times that morning in what seemed to be
a clockwise movement around the island. The spyglass
revealed two or perhaps three men, probably white men, on
board. Helen took up her post as Bacchus ran down to the
main house to notify the others. When he arrived he found
Portia, who had just come off of the watch on the pier,
arriving with the same news. Appleby, Hector, and Troy ran
up to the cemetery lookout to see for themselves.
"I cannot tell anything from just looking at the boat," said
Troy, "but perhaps we should double the watch at the pier.
It is there that they will land if they mean to, in all
likelihood." This plan of action was agreed to. Bundit,
Aaron, Samuel, and Hammond were put on notice to keep away
from the pier and to hide themselves should there be a
warning. They took over the chores of the day while the
people of Seaward prepared themselves for a confrontation
should it be necessary. Priam went to join Cassius on watch
at the pier. Care was taken to ensure that the cabins of
the Harmony and the Hesperus each were stocked with firearms
and ammunition--they could serve as floating forts if need
be. The large raft, still holding coal for the Harmony, and
the Harmony itself ran along one side of the pier, while the
Hesperus was so positioned on the other side that any
approaching craft would have to dock at the very end of the
pier, creating a gauntlet for intruders to run as they came
onto the island.
The morning wore on and lunch was just over when hearts
froze all over the island: the ship's bell from the pier
was ringing. This contingency had been planned for.
Appleby went running as fast as he could, joined by his
friends in groups of twos and threes. Arriving at the pier,
he saw Priam and Cassius quickly slip into the Harmony and
Hesperus respectively; he knew they were taking up arms
there. Appleby heard rustling behind the stone walls
covering the cannon and knew that his friends were taking up
positions there. Alone, he walked to the middle of the pier
and stood next to the upright post that held the ship's
bell. Not far away, closing in as fast as the breeze would
bring it, was a small sailboat.
Nobody called from the boat as it approached. It glided up
to the pier, bumped it, and two white men leaped out to
secure it to the wooden uprights at the very end of the
structure. Out of the boat and onto the pier stepped a
tall, powerfully built white man, at least six feet and two
inches tall. He had greasy brown hair under a battered hat,
a scar on one cheek just above a scruffy beard. Despite the
warmth of the day, he wore a long canvas duster. His heavy
boots clumped on the pier as he took a few steps, then
stopped.
"My name is Redfield. I am a bounty hunter. Lookin' for
some niggers. I got orders from the sheriff," and here he
pulled a paper from his pocket and waved it to the side, "to
search this island for runaway slaves."
"There are no runaway slaves here, sir," said Appleby. "You
may not land. Please leave at once."
"You must not have heard me," said Redfield, a look of cruel
enjoyment spreading on his face, "I got orders from the
sheriff. And I done landed already. Now, you gonna step
aside and let me and my men come ashore." At that he moved
his duster aside and produced a sawed-off shotgun from
beneath it which had been hanging from a leather harness.
The two men with him stepped up a few feet behind him.
They, too, had suddenly produced what seemed to be shotguns.
Appleby did not move. He spoke quietly but with a steel in
his voice that carried it down the half-length of the pier.
"Sir, I am Lieutenant Appleby of the South Carolina Militia.
I and my servants...let me repeat that, my servants as well,
sir....are empowered to defend this island in the interests
of the State of South Carolina. We were so empowered
officially by the Militia and by General Beauregard himself.
You are now standing on a fortification of the Militia. As
commander here, and as owner of this property, I judge that
you do not serve those interests of South Carolina. I don't
give a damn for the sheriff or that piece of paper or,
frankly, for you, sir. Return to your craft and leave at
once."
The air was electric. Appleby had not mentioned that he was
also a lawyer, and a good one, who had made the defense of
Seaward in all dimensions his only practice for over eleven
years. Redfield looked uncertain at Appleby's claim of
military status. He was a man accustomed to shoot and
punish first and let better educated bureaucrats worry over
the details of legalities later. He decided to push his way
through this entanglement in that manner now. Redfield
lifted the twin barrels of the sawed-off shotgun to hold it
across his chest, and with his right thumb he clicked the
two hammers back. His thugs behind him did the same.
"I got a paper from the sheriff," he said, bull-headedly,
"and I mean to come ashore." He took one step forward.
Appleby stood stock still except for his right arm, which
reached behind the bell post and pulled out his own double-
barreled shotgun, already cocked, which in one quick motion
he aimed directly down the center of the pier toward
Redfield and his men. It was a signal that had been agreed
upon by the people of Seaward. At that moment, it sounded
as if a rain of pebbles had descended on that part of the
island.
Redfield's eyes, riveted on Appleby's shotgun, swiveled
around at the odd sound. It was the sound of twenty hammers
being cocked. To the left and the right, Priam and Cassius
popped up out of the cabins of the Harmony and Hesperus,
each with two double-barreled shotguns in hand, all eight
hammers cocked back with eight fingers resting on eight
triggers. From behind the stone walls rose the Seaward
army, carbines--better suited to the longer range--cocked
and aimed. When Redfield's astonished eyes returned to
Appleby he saw not only the shotgun aimed at him but also a
Smith & Wesson revolver, pulled from his belt. Redfield's
stubbly face broke out in sweat and he took an involuntary
step backward. He muttered something to his men, who turned
quickly, one stepping back into the boat, the other making
ready to release the rope securing their craft to the pier.
Appleby was yearning to indulge himself in words at the
moment, a powerful store of invective building up in him,
but he simply stood in silence, his weapons still pointed
down the pier.
Rage warred with fear in Redfield's face. Then he, too,
slipped back toward the boat, his shotgun still at the
ready. Keeping his eyes on the many barrels pointed toward
him, he nodded at his accomplice who slipped loose the rope.
Both jumped onto the boat and pushed off.
The craft had gone only a few dozen yards out but had just
caught a breeze when Redfield stepped up onto the stern of
the boat and roared at Appleby. "You ain't no white man,
you a nigger lover, that's what you are, an' y'all gonna
die! You cain't git away with this!"
That did it. Appleby charged down the pier at top speed and
as he reached the end of it discharged both barrels of his
shotgun at once in the direction of Redfield. The bounty
hunter saw what was coming and dove for the deck, as did his
thugs, as a hail of buckshot shredded the air around them.
The recoil from discharging both barrels twisted the shotgun
up and out of the single hand that held it, and it landed on
the pier behind Appleby. Cassius and Priam took an extra
moment to aim their shotguns and let loose with four
deliberate volleys each, aimed right into the sails and
rigging of the boat. Great rips and holes appeared in the
canvas as shot and shreds of cloth exploded out of the back
side of the sails. A stay snapped and flailed like a whip
as it came thudding down onto the deck.
From the line of stone walls the carbines now roared.
Appleby's revolver joined the assault. Redfield and his
bullies were under cover, lying flat on the deck, but the
wooden hull and mast of the ship took many a lead bullet
that rained down upon them. Splinters flew from every
impact. Equipment that wasn't tied down on decks jumped
into the air or over the side into the sea at the multiple
impact of lead. The sound of the shotguns and carbines had
been deafening, echoing in the shocked silence that
followed. A great cloud of black powder smoke rolled away
in the wind.
"Enough!" cried Appleby, raising his hand in the air. His
well trained troops quickly reloaded and then raised the
muzzles of their weapons skyward and waited. By that time
the breeze had pushed the craft farther out and, fortunately
for Redfield, was naturally carrying the boat west toward
the mainland. Slow minutes passed. The boat limped away,
lines and torn canvas flapping, the mast at a crazy angle,
until it was far enough out of range so that the men could
be seen creeping out from cover to try regaining control of
their vessel as well as they could. The First Battle of
Seaward Island was over, and Seaward was victorious.
Everyone kept stone silent as Redfield's vessel limped away,
and then with one voice they roared in triumph. "Soldiers"
emerged from behind the stone walls, Priam and Cassius came
up out of the boats, and everyone milled around laughing,
weeping with joy, exclaiming, and talking all at once.
Looking back up the embankment Appleby saw frightened faces
looking out from the line of trees. It was Bundit and the
Ashley men, and also the Seaward children, who had come
running at the sound of gunfire. The children were armed,
as was the plan, but frightened. Appleby beckoned them all
forward and they joined in the tumult, a dozen voices
competing to recount the story of the great fight.
Appleby himself was thinking outside the present moment.
Taking Priam aside, he asked him to restore order as soon as
the people had celebrated and vented their feelings. He
dispatched Apple to the cemetery to inform Helen as to what
had happened. He went with her as far as the main house,
where he flew into the study and began writing a letter.
Deciding that the best defense was a good offense, he was
addressing it to the colonel to whom he reported as an
officer in the Militia, bringing charges against Redfield
for attacking a fortification of the State of South
Carolina. He copied his lawyer, Horatio Smith. At worst,
the action would throw the authorities into confusion over
what had happened and what to do. At best, they would
arrest Redfield for treason and bring a halt to the search
for the runaways. Running back to the pier, Appleby passed
many of his friends coming back up from the beach, still
excited and chattering happily. He found Troy and asked him
to take the letters out immediately to try to intercept the
mail boat going into Charleston.
"Take Pan and Bacchus both with you, and make sure they are
well armed," said Appleby. "If the boat is going toward
Charleston they cannot have heard of our fight today, so
it's likely alright, but let's not take chances. We need
for these letters to get to the authorities for legal
reasons. But, please! do not put yourself in any kind of
harm's way passing off the letters or receiving any."
Troy and the twins pushed off immediately, all three of them
armed to the teeth. The remaining adults sent Apple and the
boys to the cemetery watch, then gathered around the pier to
meet as they watched the sea; from there they could also
monitor the Hesperus as she sailed out to find the mail
boat. The exciting events of the afternoon were discussed,
everyone's performance evaluated, and plans for improving
procedures were laid. Firearms were unloaded and cleaned,
made ready to fire again at a moment's notice. By the time
they were done, the Hesperus had returned with the usual
mail and no untoward incidents to report.
Chores occupied the rest of the day, keeping the community
working into the evening. Plans were made for expanding
garden plots into every available patch of land on Seaward,
for planting fruit trees in meadows so as to increase the
production of food. They were taking the long term view.
Watches came and went on the pier and the cemetery.
In the evening, lessons in literacy began for the new
arrivals from Ashley Plantation. They had been learning the
ways of Seaward in every activity throughout the day, and
were eager to blend into the community as well as they
could. Only when books dropped from sleepy hands did
everyone retire for the evening, although not without some
fear for what the night might bring.
Appleby and Aaron had both bathed before going to bed, so
grimy were they from the day's activities. They tumbled
into bed and naturally rolled together, cuddling as cool
summer breezes from the open window blew over them. They
were lying like spoons, Aaron on his side and Appleby close
behind him, one arm flopped over the younger man's belly and
the other under his neck and crooked back up over his chest.
As tired as he was, the closeness of Aaron's firm body, the
feel of his smooth skin, the clean smell of his freshly
washed hair prompted the beginnings of an erection in
Appleby. Feeling a hardening rod against his buttocks,
Aaron craned his head back, smiling.
"Masta, wan' me to do somethin' nice now? Like you did las'
night?"
Appleby chuckled and hugged Aaron tightly. He pushed his
hips forward a bit, his penis growing harder from the
contact as well as the invitation. "Aaron, how nice.
Aren't you tired? I know I am." In answer Aaron reached a
hand back and slid it along Appleby's hip and upper thigh.
Appleby sighed. "Aaron, I have to say this....I have to
know that you know....you are not a slave here and you do
not have to do this, not for me and not for anybody. You
are your own man now, and your body is your own. Yes, I
want you, but not as a slave....I want YOU, as a man."
Aaron turned over to face Appleby, pulling the white man in
toward him again with one hand while the other brushed his
long brown hair away from his face. "I know, masta... I
reckon it'll be hard to really unnerstan' that fo' a while.
But I think I wanna do somethin' nice fo' you....make you
happy, like a gift I can give you." Appleby leaned forward
and kissed Aaron between his leopard eyes. "Then, yes, that
would be lovely," he said. "And it would be a very special
gift from you, for you to do that as a free man....as two
free men together."
Aaron gave him a soft, lingering kiss on the mouth, then
pushed the sheets down and reversed his position in the bed,
kissing Appleby on the chest and belly as he traveled down
to the rigid red cock which had risen up. Aaron grasped the
shaft and squeezed, pulling the skin down and exposing the
head of the penis which had a pearl of precum on the end.
He slid his hand up and down the shaft as Appleby sighed.
He slipped his lips over the dickhead, nibbling it, and then
took the whole cock into his mouth. He began moving his
head up and down, tonguing the rigid penis as he went.
In the meantime Appleby slid his hand underneath Aaron's
pelvis which was lying by his chest to grasp the dark brown
penis. Aaron raised his muscular, rounded, flat-sided
bottom up to accommodate the white man's hand, even as he
shifted over a bit to lay his chest halfway on Appleby's
belly. Appleby now slid his hand up and down the thick
shaft as it hung down to the bed while Aaron moved his mouth
up and down over Appleby's cock. The white man had a
wonderful view of the dark brown, reddish-tinged bottom just
above him and to the side. Faster went his hand and faster
went Aaron's mouth. At last Appleby cried out "Aaron! O,
Aaron, I'm coming, O!" and pressed his hips upward as his
penis gushed semen into the black man's mouth. Even before
he was finished, Aaron groaned, his mouth full of Appleby's
organ and semen, and his thighs and belly tightened as his
own ejaculation shot out onto the bed and the side of
Appleby's hip.
As they both recovered, Aaron pulled off of the penis,
swallowing, and shifted around to lie next to Appleby.
Utterly exhausted, Appleby pulled Aaron close to him,
caressing him, running one dry hand through his hair and one
semen-slicked hand across his shoulders. No more words were
necessary as both men floated away on the soft waves of
exhaustion and afterglow.
The sun rose onto the semblance of normality the next day,
and the day after that. Indeed, July rolled around and
there was no more contact from the mainland, although mail
seemed to come both ways, to and from Charleston. The
people did not exhaust their vigilance, although waiting and
anticipating was tiring. Everyone wanted to know what would
come next.
It was in the second week of July that Bundit, keeping watch
on the cemetery lookout, sent down word with Wat that a
sailboat was circling the island again. Appleby and Hammond
went rushing up to join him, and everyone trained a spyglass
on the ship. Appleby lowered the glass from his eye. "It
is the Swan," he said. "Yes," said Bundit, and it is Robert
Ashley. Look, in the stern, you can see him clearly." All
three looked again and saw that Bundit was correct. In the
stern was Ashley, in his fancy naval uniform, holding his
own spyglass. The ship was just outside the ring of buoys,
courting disaster to come in so close. Bundit informed his
friends that the ship had circled the island at least twice
during the last two hours. As they spoke, it made off
around the southern tip of the island. Appleby realized
that it might well be headed for the pier.
"Ring the ship's bell, please, Bundit," he said, nodding at
the twin to the bell on the pier, "and then you and Hammond
need to find Aaron and Samuel and the four of you should
hide." Appleby and Hammond ran down the path with the sound
of the bell behind them. They spread the news to those they
met, alarmed at the sound. Everyone took their stations
assigned to them, but Appleby was thinking furiously as he
ran down toward the pier. Meeting Troy and Priam on the
way, he spoke to them panting as they ran.
"Troy, Priam....I think we will not be able to deny Robert
Ashley a landing on the island as we did Redfield. He has
military status, and I cannot play that card with him. But
he seems to be arriving here in his own private boat, not in
any vessel owned by the Militia, such as the Saluda. I
propose we allow only him ashore. I can handle him on my
own. You two and the others should be ready to keep his
servants no nearer than the pier."
Everyone agreed to that plan. Arriving at the pier, Troy
and Priam discussed the matter with the others who were
there. It seemed wise to send most of the people back to
their everyday chores so as to maintain a semblance of
normality. "And remember, everyone," said Appleby, "we must
pretend to be an ordinary plantation if anyone comes ashore.
Talk as little as possible. Stay out of Ashley's way. Keep
the children out of sight and sound. But be seen yourselves
going about doing chores and so forth....in the distance."
As everybody was nodding their agreement, Cassius sounded a
low alarm from the end of the pier. The Swan was definitely
headed toward the landing.
Troy and Priam were casually sitting on the cabin roofs of
the Hesperus and Harmony, while Cassius was lolling about on
the pier, when the Swan bumped up against the pier and was
secured to an upright. Their firearms were close at hand
but out of sight. Pan and Bacchus appeared to be hauling
new stones up to the walls in front of the cannon; their
firearms were likewise hidden but handy. Three slaves, whom
Appleby did not recognize, leaped onto the pier in securing
the Swan, and waited for their master. Robert Ashley
swaggered down off of the deck and onto the pier, brushing a
speck from his uniform. Appleby was there to meet him.
"Appleby, my good fellow, so good to see you again," Robert
said, extending his hand. Appleby had to remind himself to
take it cordially. "Yes, I heard all about the
unpleasantness with that fellow Redfield. Not a gentleman,
of course. Quite right to send him away from a military
site. Well!" he said, smiling like a shark, "here I am,
military, to look for those runaways. Happened to be mine,
as you know."
Appleby did not fall for the trap. "No, I did not know
that, Robert. Well, there are no runaways here so you
needn't bother."
"Oh, so sorry, but I have permission from the colonel and
the magistrate," Ashley said, pulling a paper halfway out of
his jacket, then returning it. "They might be hiding
somewhere, you know. Well, let's proceed!" He took a step
to the side to move around Appleby. His slaves likewise
made as if to follow him. Troy and Priam leaped lightly off
of the boats and onto the pier, between the slaves and
Robert, joined by Cassius.
"Are you questioning my word as an officer and a gentleman,
sir?" asked Appleby in a quiet, steely voice. Robert looked
back at his slaves, at Troy and Priam, and replied "No, no
indeed! As I said, they may be hiding somewhere."
"Then I will look for them myself," said Appleby. Robert's
eyes flashed.
"I have legal permission, Appleby," he said, with quiet
determination, "as a military officer."
Appleby thought quickly. "Very well, then I will accompany
you on your search. Your servants are not in the Militia
and will remain here."
"No, they will accompany me," said Robert, his voice rising.
Appleby held his gaze.
"My servants there at the end of the pier were specifically
questioned and authorized by General Beauregard and the
Militia to defend this island. As, by extension, were the
rest of my servants. Yours were not. Your servants will
remain here, sir." And at that Appleby whisked his jacket
aside to reveal the revolver stuck in the belt.
Robert of course carried no such weapon as that would have
detracted from the appearance of his uniform. The Smith &
Wesson caught his attention. Swallowing hard he looked over
Appleby's shoulder to the end of the pier, where Pan and
Bacchus now stood, looking casually at the sky and the
sea....each with a double barreled shotgun by his side.
Through clenched teeth he gave in. "Very well, sir, let us
proceed," Robert said.
Striding quickly, Robert marched down the pier and up the
embankment. Appleby was but a step behind him, winking at
Pan and Bacchus as he passed, looking back to see that Troy,
Cassius, and Priam had likewise produced their own shotguns
and that Robert's servants, with little inherent loyalty to
their master, had eagerly returned to the Swan. At first it
seemed as if Robert would try to simply outpace Appleby, but
it was hopeless, for his life of dissipation gave him no
advantage over the habits of hard work in sea air that were
Appleby's.
Robert strode across the meadow and up the lawn, looking
widely to the left and right at the buildings. Appleby
bowed slightly and gestured with a flourish toward the
outhouse. "Perhaps you should begin your search there,
sir," he said. Robert took a step toward it, realized what
it was, and blushed scarlet. Without a word he stalked off
toward the barns, going through every corner of them, then
into the kitchen. He plunged into each of the cabins but
each was completely empty. Everywhere he went, watchful
eyes kept ahead of him and cleared his path, and Appleby was
on his heel.
Perspiring in the summer sun, Robert's "search" became more
frantic and less systematic. "It is hopeless, hopeless," he
muttered under his breath, then caught himself as he
realized that Appleby likely heard him. His hair hanging
damp over his forehead, he looked this way and that again,
then said, "Your house, sir," and stormed off in the
direction of the largest dwelling. Appleby easily outpaced
him and put himself in the way.
"Surely I would know whether there are runaways in my own
house. There are none, sir. Think of the consequences of
doubting me in that, sir," he said, lightly placing his hand
on the butt of the revolver. The tense air was as brittle
as glass as the two stood there staring each other down.
Years of intimacy counted for nothing now, their
relationship draining away to the last drops. Then the
tension shattered and Robert turned on his heel, his
shoulders hunched and head thrust bullishly forward, heading
toward the pier.
Appleby dogged his heels the whole way, across the lawn and
meadow and down the embankment. The Seaward people were
again casually lounging around the pier; they had made their
point and the Ashley people were happy to take it. Robert
clumped down the pier in a fury as his servants began
untying the Swan from the pier. At the end he turned on his
heel, a ghastly false smile on his face. "Oh, my good
fellow, I almost forgot; commanders of local posts are to
meet the first Friday in August to review plans. See you
then, Appleby." He jumped onto the Swan and it was pushed
off.
As the vessel caught a breeze and moved off toward the
horizon, the people of Seaward came forward in twos and
threes, down from the center of the island. At the last,
when the Swan was hardly visible, the Ashley people and
Bundit came out of the line of trees as well. Everyone
discussed the day's events in as hopeful a tone as they
could muster, but it was useless. It seemed as if they had
won the Second Battle of Seaward Island, but perhaps they
sensed at a deeper level that, in fact, they had lost it.